open letter to my husband

To the guy who worked as an emu rancher and a bouncer to pay his bills after leaving the Marine Corps.
To the guy who worked construction, made pizzas, delivered chips to convenience stores, and was a tobacco rep at rodeos.
To the guy who sold real estate in the hill-country.
To the guy who worked hard for a man who seemed to be selling nothing, but did it very well.
To the guy who worked and lived in an un-air-conditioned warehouse in Bryan, Texas, breathing poisonous fumes while refinishing furniture, all while on crutches with a broken femur.
To the guy who sold cars on an asphalt parking lot in Texas in August while wearing a suit an tie.
To the guy who worked for a mean, rat-bastard, crooked boss while trying to sell lumber.
To the guy who worked his way up from the bottom in an industry that goes completely against his nature. Sitting in a cubicle taking phone calls all day while having to deal with one incompetent, crazy boss after another.
To the guy who worked two jobs so I could stay home with our babies.
To the guy who kept his chin up and still managed to shine in one horrible work situation after another. Never missing a day, never late once, always doing more than was expected.
To the guy who finally caught a break and was recognized for his work ethic, intelligence and character.
To the guy who is now high in demand, breaking hearts as he climbs the corporate ladder.
You wouldn't be who you are today without your history.
Congratulations on your new job.
I'm so proud of you.

r.i.p. furball

Well I knew it was just a matter of time. His days with us were numbered. The very first night we had him he escaped from his cage and I only found him because the cat was stalking him. Then last weekend I heard the cat playing with something up on the stairs and arrived just in time to keep the hamster from jumping off the landing. Thankfully, the cat seemed to understand the hamster was part of the family and he didn't use his claws or teeth when he let him out of his cage and batted him around.

But yesterday, was a very bad day. In the morning my son asked me to get the hamster out to play. He usually puts Furball on the table in the playroom and places different tubes and things around for him to climb through. He's an animal lover and has always been gentle and careful with him. So after getting Furball out I went back downstairs to work on bills. A few minutes later, my son asked if I would play with him and his hamster. I went upstairs and noticed right away that something was wrong. Furball was wheezing and kind of hiccupping. I immediately picked him up and put him back in his cage and told my son he needed to rest because it looked like he might be getting a cold. I went and called my husband who surmised that maybe the new wood shavings we'd put in his cage had been too dusty and were making him sick.

I hung up and went back into the playroom and spotted Furball in the fetal position on the floor of his cage. He was gasping and contorting and I could see in his eyes that he was not going to make it. I shooed my son out of the room and tried to collect myself. I asked my son if he knew of anything the hamster may have swallowed or if anything could have happened to change him from the healthy creature he had been just minutes before into the suffering, dying animal he had become. My son looked panicked and said, "Mom, take him to the vet! Maybe he has a bladder infection!" (Our cat had just had one a week before). I explained that he had something worse than that and I was afraid it was too late for the vet.

My son had never experienced the loss of a pet before, especially one that was his very own. One that Santa had brought just a month before. I didn't know how he would react but I didn't have to wait long to find out. First, he ran into the bathroom and locked the door saying, "I didn't do anything!!! Why did Santa bring him if he wasn't going to last long?!!!" It was heartbreaking. I got him to come out and calmly explained that it was not his fault, that hamsters are very fragile and I knew he would never have done anything intentional to hurt him. He said he felt sick so I fixed him a nest on the sofa and gave him some Coke, something we reserve for sick kids. I remembered reading in my Wonder of Boys book that boys often have delayed reactions to emotional situations and don't cry or immediately act out like girls do. They need some time and encouragement to process their emotions.

I went back in to check on the hamster and he was dead. Upon closer look, I saw there was blood on the wood shavings around his head. What on earth? Could dust have caused that??? After discussing it with my husband some more, we became convinced that our son had probably hurt him by accident. Maybe giving him a broken rib and punctured lung from dropping or squishing him. My husband felt strongly that we needed to get our son to tell us the truth or he would be eaten up with guilt forever.

So I went back my boy and told him the story of how I accidentally squished a frog with my knee and killed him when I was a little girl and how I felt so horrible but it really was an accident. He then told me that our cat had "laid on" the hamster and that must have been what happened. I told him that no matter what happened, I would love him and I knew he was a good kid and would never intentionally hurt an animal. His mood changed immediately. He still wouldn't confess to anything but he was very affectionate and friendly for the rest of the day.

I couldn't bear to touch the dead hamster so I left it in the cage until my husband got home. My son kept asking if it had gone to heaven yet. I explained that when people and animals die, our bodies are left behind and we could have a funeral for Furball if he wanted. That sent him spinning again. He flew into a rage and said he was going to leave the house for good. He stormed around acting totally unreasonable and we had to calm him down again. It was the first time I've seen one of my children in real emotional pain and it was everything I could do to keep from falling apart myself. I knew it would just make it worse for him to see me in tears. My husband told him it was okay to feel sad and mad and to cry when we lose things we love. He still remained stoic and angry and defiant. Just CRY!!! I wanted to yell. Get it out!!! But he just didn't.

I was feeling guilty and sad myself. I really liked that little hamster. I enjoyed feeding him and looking at him when he was all curled up in his nest. His tiny toes were perfect and cute. He was so energetic and hard working. If only I had not let my son play with him unsupervised. Why had I thought that a four year-old would always remember to be careful and not get curious about 'what might happen if...'

And because of my misjudgement, an innocent animal suffered a painful death and an innocent little boy is suffering a broken heart.

I guess it's one of those horrible lessons that comes along now and again. A lesson about life, death, trust, and pain.

I don't know if I'm tough enough for this.

incredible shrinking kids

This weekend something very strange and scary happened.

Not only did the boys shrink to a fraction of their original size, they were traumatized by giant spiders!



And cows!



AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!





But really, we just went to the Denver Art Museum where the first Saturday of the month is FREE! It was very impressive and the boys had a great time. I highly recommend it!

the mysticism of marriage and snow

Back in Texas I had a friend who drove her children northward for three hours to get to some snow because she wanted them to have the experience of throwing snowballs and making a snowman. They'd never seen snow before and that was the closest it got.

When we first moved to Colorado, we were very excited about the coming winter and surprised by the moans and groans we heard from the Colorado natives. They were not as enthused about the impending snowy season at all. Why not? we wondered.

The first snow came and I still remember getting up in the middle of the night and noticing a soft glow coming through the window. I raised the blinds and my eyes grew wide. Everything was white and sparkling. It was beautiful. The new blanket of snow muted the sounds of the neighborhood and created a quiet peacefulness. It was magical.

Then the blizzards came.

At first, it was exciting and amazing. It was a nice break in our routine and allowed for some bonding between neighbors as we dug out together. We never lost power and had plenty of food so it was kind of fun. And the sledding couldn't have been better.

It's been snowing for almost seven weeks now. Not a typical Colorado winter at all, and we have about four months left until spring. Snow may be pretty to look at, but sooner or later you're going to have to drive in it. And walk in it. And put layers and layers of clothes on each child to allow them to play in it and then take off all those layers and layers of clothes when they come in after spending five minutes outside.

And you have to shovel it.

You may see where I'm going in the snow/marriage analogy.

I recently read an article where the author said it made her sad to see used wedding dresses hanging in resale shops. She thought it was a sign that marriage wasn't viewed as being as mystical as it once was.

I could see her point. I can recall how I felt about it as a little girl and even as a young woman. The fantasy of having a man who treasured me and would want to share a home with me and our many, many babies. He would think I was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen and never glance another woman's way.

I still remember the feeling of being newly engaged. Wearing the sparkly ring and having everyone ask about it. Making plans for the wedding. Picking out the snowy white dress with sequins and pearls.

And now it's coming up on our ninth aniversary. We've weathered a few blizzards: babies, bills, jobs, moves, family disputes. But I'm fortunate to have married a man who has surpassed all my expectations and encouraged me to be myself. For us, the good has far outweighed the bad.

So to me, marriage is still mystical. A covenant bond between my husband, myself, and God. And when I look at our boys, I never cease to be amazed. The blend of him and me in their little faces and bodies. Biological and magical at the same time.

So even when there's shoveling to be done, it's always worth it because the sledding can't be beat. And when it gets cold, we can warm ourselves by the fire and sip some hot chocolate with lots of tiny, sweet marshmallows.